


With Every Part of You

by blueraccoon, sanders



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dominance/submission, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex Toys, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:23:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueraccoon/pseuds/blueraccoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanders/pseuds/sanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny isn't going to let go. Steve has something to hold onto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Every Part of You

Come Friday morning, Danny waits until Steve's in the shower and lays out all of the toys for the night on the bed, lining them up alphabetically because he's already bored out his mind from a week that started with a very large explosion and went swiftly down hill into mind-numbing. So, he sets the anal plug down on the left, the blindfold beside it, the cock ring and cuffs at the end, and he considers adding something else but figures it's already enough to fry Steve's brain for the next eight to twelve hours of fighting crime and pretending there's nothing at all waiting for them at home.

He whistles as he closes the bedroom door and hums while making coffee, and by the time Steve comes down stairs with still-damp hair, he's moved on to actively singing along with Bon Jovi on the stereo.

“You are a cruel man," Steve says. "Please, God, no singing. I still have ringing in my left ear." He gets himself a cup of coffee and takes a gulp. "Also, you're going to have that damn song stuck in my head all day now."

"Oh, poor baby," Danny coos at him from the table. "There are still eggs in the pan if you want 'em, and that's not what I was hoping would stick but there are worse things than the song stylings of Mr. Jon Bon Jovi."

“Eggs are good, I'll take the eggs," Steve says, getting a plate. "I'm choosing to ignore the contents of the bedroom until, you know, _after_ work when I can properly think about them."

"We are not at work right now but far be it from me to point that out," Danny says. "Can you even identify all of the contents of the bedroom?"

"Bed, dresser, nightstand--two nightstands--closet, chair--oh, did you mean the items on the bed?" Steve asks innocently.

"Did I---yes, I meant the items on the bed," Danny says. "But if you want to think about the dresser all day, don't let me stop you."

"I'd _rather_ think about the dresser than the alphabetically arranged items on the bed," Steve says. "The dresser will be less likely to distract me than say, the blindfold. Or the cuffs, or the lube, or anything else you left up there. Like the plug."

"But you love the idea of all of it," Danny says, gesturing at Steve with his fork. "Admit it. You got hard when you saw it all there, waiting for you."

"Well," Steve says. "Yeah."

Danny grins, slow and leering, and leans back in his chair. "I love how you don't even pretend to deny it anymore, babe," he says. "Tonight's going to be good."

Steve grins back, picking up his coffee cup. "Yeah," he says. "Okay, yeah."

"Sit down, eat," Danny says, pointing at Steve's chair. "Act like you know what civilized is for the last half hour before we have to be at work."

"Yes, dear," Steve says, taking a seat and picking up his fork.

****  
Admittedly, Danny should know better, but Steve's been fidgety and cranky all morning because they _still_ don't have any real leads on any of their cases and he hasn't gotten to shoot anyone, set fire to anything, or nearly get Danny killed. So, on the way to lunch, just to distract him, only to distract him, Danny says, "So, how would you feel about fucking me?"

"What? Jesus, Danny," Steve says, slamming on the brakes and nearly hitting the car in front of them. "Don't--you can't just _ask_ shit like that!"

Danny exhales, relaxes the arms he stretched out to brace against the dashboard, and looks at Steve. "Pay attention to traffic!" he yells. "Jesus, I do _not_ want to die today. I have plans, plans that involve us surviving to get home tonight."

"I am paying attention!" Steve says defensively. "Sorry! I just--yes, of course I would like to fuck you but i didn't know you were into that and could you not spring this on me when I'm _driving_ next time?"

"Would you have preferred I asked at the office?" Danny asks. "Or over lunch? I wanted to know, now, not earlier, not later, but now, so I asked. I didn't expect you to try to _kill_ me as an answer. Most people would just say yes or no, not create a ten car pile up in the middle of the day."

Steve pulls into the parking lot of the sandwich shop and rests his head on the steering wheel. "I hate you so very much," he mutters. "Yes, that is my answer. Yes, I would like to. Okay? Are we okay now?"

"You do not hate me," Danny says. "You want to fuck me and that is not hate, my friend." He reaches over and rubs the back of Steve's neck. "And I just wanted to know. I'm not offering or anything, not soon, but I wanted to know."

"Okay," Steve says into the steering wheel. He sits up and sighs. "Wait, that's the--call for backup," he says, scrambling out of the car and running headlong after Millford. It ends up being eight blocks, two trash cans, a passing Chevy, and a parked moped later before Steve finally catches up to him, and the resulting brawl leaves him with a couple of scraped knuckles and Millford with a split lip, but he feels _great_ about it, and with Millford in custody it's only a matter of time until Blye breaks down, and they've already _got_ him, so really, day well done if Steve says so himself and lets everyone go at four o'clock.

Danny looks at the bandages on Steve's hands and shakes his head for the twentieth time since the lunch they didn't have. He says nothing, having already yelled himself hoarse two hours ago about why chasing criminals through traffic and playing chicken with large trucks is a _stupid_ idea, and he's already grudgingly admitted that he's glad they got Millford and impressed that Steve---for once---remembered that calling for back up is very good idea, and there's just nothing left to say.

"You're scaring me," Steve says, parking outside the house. "You're not saying anything, what did I do wrong? Where--I called for backup, I didn't get anything worse than a scraped knuckle, we've got Millford, this is a win, Danny, so please, say something, okay? You've been quiet for twenty minutes and that's about nineteen minutes and fifty seconds longer than you've ever been quiet before."

Danny unfastens his seatbelt and turns toward Steve, reaching up to wind his hand in Steve's shirt and cup the back of his neck with his other hand. He kisses him hard, just once and lets go. "You are not expendable," he says and opens his door.

Steve sits there for a good sixty seconds before he manages to get it together enough to follow Danny inside. It's a fucking Pavlovian response; Danny does that to him and he gets hard, every single time, stops thinking, every single time. By the time he shuts the door to the house, he's halfway out of his head and _still_ in that first rush of being turned on and he waits to see what Danny wants, because there's nothing else he can do.

"Do you have any idea why---you're a psycho with a death wish and there is something truly unhinged in that brain of yours," Danny says, forcing his voice into quiet instead of yelling, into something tightly rational as he backs Steve up against the front door. "And it pisses me off because you run off into situations with nobody there but me ninety-five percent of the time, which, I can admit, is less than the ninety-nine point nine we started out with, so improvement. Gold star. But you still---you still do these _things_ , these insane things, and one of these days, one of these stupidly bright, hot days, you are going to get hurt. You are going to run out in front of a semi or a helicopter is going to land on you or you're going to get shot or lost in the jungle or _something_ and I? I am going to be the only one there to see it and it pisses me off because you are _not_ expendable."

"I didn't--Danny, he was _right there_ ," Steve protests, his voice sounding weak and uneven to his ears. He can't fucking _think_ when Danny does this to him and he feels like he should be making a counter argument and he just. can't.

"I know," Danny says, laying his hands flat against Steve's chest. "I _know_ , and I know we had to go after him. I know that. We shouldn't have done anything differently, don't you think I know that? And out there, on the job, you're a crazy fuck and I hate it and it makes me nuts, but it's---that's the job. This? Is not the job. This is home and I'm not---there was a moment I didn't know if you'd get out of the way in time and all I could see was---I wasn't _mad_. I was _scared_. Just for a second, I was scared, okay?"

"Okay," Steve says, almost a whisper. "Okay."

"And this is textbook 'why you don't fall in love with your partner,'" Danny says. "Especially when he's a ninja SEAL without a fear gene."

"Danny," Steve says and stops, because he just can't figure out what happens next.

What happens next is Danny tugs Steve down and kisses him again, so much softer this time, slow and thorough, and it's the kind of kiss Danny wants to be able to remember later, just in case. "I can do the job and I can have this," he whispers when he pulls away. "Just so you know and don't start making up things like how I'm going to pick work over us, because that's never going to happen. It's all or nothing."

Steve closes his eyes in relief. "Okay," he whispers back. "Okay. But it's not-- _you_ don't have this. _We_ have this."

Yeah, we do," Danny says, smiling. "You were---I'm not going anywhere. Not another job, not another relationship. God, I haven't even really looked at anybody else since I met you. Okay, since I punched you, but same thing."

"Same thing?" Steve asks, smiling back a little. "Ouch."

"I met you, I wanted to punch you, then I got to punch you," Danny says. "Then I liked you a little bit after that."

"Only a little?" Steve says. "You're killing me here, Danny."

"What do you want me to say, princess? That it was love at first sight?" Danny asks. "You were holding a gun on me, and I have to say, I have a lot of kinks but that one doesn't do anything for me. How about this? I started on---on your dad's case, and that got me curious about you. Then you were an asshole, then you were kind of okay, and then by the time you met Grace, I was goofy over you, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

Steve laughs. "Absolutely," he says. "You couldn't resist me and you knew it."

"Oh, wait just one minute. Who couldn't resist whom? I believe you're the one who burst into my apartment and demanded I be your partner," Danny says, stepping back and loosening his tie. "I wasn't the one sitting around jonesing for a chance to see you again. I believe that was you, babe."

"What can I say?" Steve asks. "There was just something about you."

"Yeah, you wanted me," Danny says, preening a little to keep Steve smiling. "I knew you did."

"Mm-hmm," Steve says. "But I thought that first, you were straight, and second, you'd just punch me again."

Danny shrugs. "I figured you'd get me killed before it would matter one way or the other," he says. "Glad we were both wrong."

"Yeah," Steve says. "Me, too."

"All right, enough of this," Danny says. "Get upstairs, you sap."

Steve laughs. "And we're back to normal," he says.

"You have been many things, but I seriously, seriously doubt normal has ever been one of them," Danny says, pushing Steve toward the stairs. "I'm going to take a very quick shower during which you are going to get undressed and maybe explore a few of those toys I left for you this morning. I'm sure you can figure out which ones I mean."

Steve stops for a moment, because he's not _quite_ where Danny wants him to be and he can feel it. He had been, but then they'd been talking or arguing or whatever, and now he's not. "Okay," he says. "I can do that."

"I can hear you thinking, Steven," Danny says, unabashedly checking out Steve's ass as they climb the stairs.

"Yeah, it happens once in a while," Steve says.

Danny decides not to respond to that, even though it's possibly the largest opening Steve has ever offered him. He follows him up to the landing and into the bedroom instead, mostly ignoring him---okay, pretending to ignore him---while he undresses. Once his clothes are off and neatly in the laundry hamper, Danny stands in front of Steve, grips his shirt again and kisses him until he makes that quiet little sound that means his brain is shutting down.

Steve closes his eyes, his whole body exhaling tension. "Yeah, okay," he whispers. "Anything you want."

"Because you're mine?" Danny asks, brushing his fingers along Steve's jaw.

"Yeah," Steve murmurs. "Yours."

"Yeah, you are," Danny says, kissing him again. "And if you think I'm ever letting you go, you are wrong. Very, very wrong. Now, take your clothes off, get into bed and try out your toys. You've got ten minutes to figure out what feels good."

Steve nods, already peeling out of his shirt. Danny leaves him to shower and Steve finishes getting undressed, tossing his clothes in the hamper, and moves to the bed.

He looks at the items Danny's put there and thinks for a moment. Blindfold's out. He doesn't like not being able to see when he's alone. He'll leave that one for Danny to put on him, and obviously he can't really cuff himself to the headboard, but he can at least fasten the leather around his wrists. They've used these cuffs before, and they fit around Steve's hands like they were designed for it. Maybe they were; Steve has no idea. He just knows they feel good.

He knows what Danny wants him to try; it's not exactly difficult to figure out. He picks up the plug, looking at it. Not too big--smaller than Danny, Steve thinks, although it's hard to judge--but there's a weird curve to it and a couple ripples that are going to make it feel....really, really good, he thinks, snagging a condom and the lube and wondering how many fingers he'll need before he can work the plug inside him.

Two is what he gets, as it turns out, not so much because that’s what he needs as because he gets both impatient and his hand gets tired of the awkward angle. So he strips off the glove and slicks the plug and groans, low and deep, when he pushes it inside himself. And yeah, he could have used more prep, because there’s a bit of a burn, but it feels damn good and every time he twists, moves, _breathes_ it nudges him just right.

Danny rushes through his shower, just enough to make sure he's _clean_ , and he opens the bathroom door as quietly as he can to watch Steve. He expects Steve to freeze, maybe blush, look a little like he's been caught. Instead, he's not sure Steve, with his knees spread wide and breath coming fast and hitching, even notices he's there.

Steve doesn't know when Danny first comes back into the bedroom; honestly he wasn't paying attention, but then he looks up and Danny's standing there, watching him and lazily stroking himself and Steve groans, holding out a hand to him. "Danny," he manages, shaky and breathless. "C'mere."

Danny nods and walks over to the edge of the bed, lets Steve watch him touch himself for a few moments. It's nothing but a tease and they both know it, but he wants Steve to see what he does to him before he blindfolds him. "You have any idea what you look like right now?" he asks, trailing his fingers down the center of Steve's chest.

"Not a damn clue," Steve says, moving his hands to his sides and staying still, carefully.

"You're killing me here," Danny says. "You're just..." There are very few words he can come up with that aren't things like perfect or amazing, words that would go straight to Steve's head and come back to bite him in the ass the next time they argued. He settles for kneeling on the bed and bending to bring their lips together. He can't call it a kiss this time when it's messy and wet, and more like fucking Steve's mouth. His hands close around Steve's wrists to pull them over his head, to stroke the leather around them and chain him in place.

Steve pulls against the cuffs the way he always does, just to feel the leather tighten and the chains rattle a little. He's not going anywhere; yeah, if there was an emergency he could probably unbuckle them and get himself out but that's not the point, the point is that Danny has the control here because Steve _can't_. He groans, shifting on the bed and losing his breath at the feel of the plug all over again.

"Seriously killing me," Danny murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Steve's. "I wasn't sure you'd do it. I thought you'd put on the cuffs, maybe think about the cock ring, but, Christ, you just had to go for it, didn't you?" He slides his hand down Steve's body, barely brushing his cock before resting his fingers against the base of the plug. "I could take this out right now, replace it with my fingers. Would you like that, babe?"

"Yeah," Steve manages, closing his eyes because he can't focus on looking at anything right now, it's too much as it is. "God, yeah, you know I would."

"I will, later," Danny promises, taking his hand away to reach for the blindfold. He lifts Steve's head just enough to slip it into place and stretches out beside him, the way he's done before, to give Steve a moment to ground himself.

Steve takes it for the break it is and breathes in, focusing on the solid feel of Danny pressed against him, smooth skin and rougher hair and Danny's hand on his chest. "Okay," he murmurs after a moment. "Okay."

"Okay," Danny echoes, shifting back to his knees and picking up the cock ring. He fastens it in place around Steve with quick, efficient movements that still earn him deep groans, and he draws out more when he lowers his mouth lick the head of Steve's cock.

"Killing me," Steve says. "Danny, _please_."

Danny laughs softly and replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking Steve a few times. "You don't get to come until I say so," he murmurs. "Not until I'm ready for you to, and it's going to be a while, sweetheart. You just have to lie back and take it. You said I could have anything I wanted, remember?"

"I remember," Steve says, swallowing. "I didn't--Jesus--I--fuck, Danny, _please_ ," he gets out. "At least tell me what you want." That comes out coherently, he thinks, slightly proud of his ability to manage a full sentence even if they are only single syllable words.

"I want you just like this," Danny says, grabbing the lube off the nightstand and flipping the cap open with his free hand. "Restrained and stretched and hard for me, saying 'please', because you want so much you can't even think straight."

Steve makes a sound that's embarrassingly like a whimper and tries to just breathe, to relax and take it the way Danny's taught him, but Jesus, he's so hard it aches and he can hear sounds and smell the lube but he can't figure out what Danny's _doing_ , other than not touching him.

"Just be patient," Danny says, wondering if Steve notices the way his breath catches between words, if he has any idea that Danny's on his knees beside him, working a slick finger into himself.

Danny's got to be touching himself somehow, Steve figures; from the way the bed shifts and the way Danny sounds that's the only explanation he's got. Steve just wishes he could _see_ it, remove the blindfold and watch Danny stroking his cock, jerking off over him. He shifts without thinking about it and groans, not sure whether he wants to do that again or not.

"God, next time---next time, I might let you do this," Danny says and bites his lip, knowing he's going a little faster than he should, is stretching himself a little more than he's really ready for. The edge of pain that comes with it, it's worth it, it's the only thing that keeps him focused on his plan instead of giving in now and fucking Steve until neither of them can move, the way Steve seems to want. He works his way through three fingers and calls it enough, strips away the latex glove he used and tears open a condom.

Steve hears the condom wrapper and braces for Danny to ease out the plug. It doesn't happen. Instead, Danny rolls the condom on him, and then--"Jesus _fuck_ Danny what _please_ ," Steve says, not entirely sure that was all in English. "Oh, God." Danny's so hot and tight around him and he can't fucking _move_ , can't push up the way he wants to, needs to. And every time Danny moves the fucking _plug_ moves and oh, Christ, he can't, he just can't, and something in him just breaks wide open and leaves him pleading and desperate on the bed.

"I asked you," Danny says softly, rolling his hips. "I asked if you wanted to and I had to figure it out first, what I wanted and I didn't think you'd--- _fuck_ \---I wasn't sure you'd want it this way." He keeps murmuring even though he's sure Steve's past understanding him anyway, and he keeps forming words and sounds and moving on Steve harder and faster until he's close, too close. It takes all of his control to stop, to remember to pull the little strap around Steve's cock and balls free and to say, "Now."

He can't be crying, he doesn't cry, but his cheeks are wet and his throat hurts like he's been screaming. Steve comes so hard it hurts and it just doesn't seem to _stop_ and then the world just goes blurry and away for a moment or five.

Steve is fucking beautiful when he breaks and Danny comes without his cock ever being touched, striping Steve's skin and adding to the gorgeous mess he's made of him. He's careful in pulling off and careful in cleaning Steve up, whispering a warning before he takes away the blindfold, before he unhooks the cuffs from the bed and gathers Steve in his arms. "It's okay," Danny says, letting Steve huddle into him, fingers stroking Steve's back. "I've got you and I'm not going to let go."

"Danny," he manages, the only thing he can think, feel, anything. Just Danny, holding him, and Steve's still trembling but maybe that's okay because Danny's got him and he can hold on to that.


End file.
